


Thrown Out Speeches

by HeartSabers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Desk Sex, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prompt Fill, Senator Ben Solo, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartSabers/pseuds/HeartSabers
Summary: One-shot inspired by @reylo_promptsPrompt: "When Rey visits a wax museum, she sees a wax statue of her asshole boss/famous politician, Ben Solo. On a dare, she tells it all about the fantasies she's had of him.She didn't realize the man himself was scheduled to make an appearance at said museum."





	Thrown Out Speeches

**Author's Note:**

> Silly little one-shot inspired by @reylo_prompts! Thank you for the inspiration, I hope you guys enjoy it! <3 
> 
> Title inspired by Taylor Swift's The Archer

The sound of Rey’s heels clacking against the checkered granite floor echoed off the walls of the empty museum, oddly in synch with her thundering heart.

“I mean, what’s next, arranging his trips to fucking Disneyland?” she hissed, her fingers digging grooves into the paper cup that held her morning coffee.

“Rey, keep it down.”

“I’m not keeping it _the fuck_ down, you know he does it just to spite me. He _knows_ how much I hate this shit, how humiliating it is to –”

Poe’s shoes slid easily on the polished stone as he turned around, halting Rey with a sympathetic squeeze on her upper arms.

“Listen, I get it, okay? I do. But there’s a _teensy bit_ of paranoia sprinkled in there, baby girl, and you need to....” He inhaled deeply, making a scene of exhaling with exaggerated didacticism. “Let it go.”

Rey just pursed her lips in response, shoving Poe out of her way and resuming her therapeutic heel clacking towards the first floor.

“Okay, then just keep it together while he’s in the room, alright?” Poe pleaded from behind her as they made it up the stairs. “You know we’re walking on thin fucking ice here.”

“Ain’t I always a doll?” Rey smiled over her shoulder, batting her lashes sarcastically as they reached the imposing foyer.

As her eyes roamed the room, Rey had to admit it was a beautiful sight. Early morning light filtered through large, regal windows, catching on the specks of dust that waltzed in the orange-tinged air. For a second, she couldn’t quite recall why she felt so angry.

“It’s a privilege, if you think about it,” Poe murmured, wrapping one arm around her shoulder as he caught up with her. “Getting all the museum fun minus the lines.”

“We’re not getting _all the museum fun_,” she said, rolling her eyes in feigned exasperation but leaning against his shoulder anyway. “You don’t even get to see any wax figures. And I only get to see his insufferable face.”

“Insufferable, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Not ugly? Not unpleasant? Not-”

“Oh, suck my dick,” Rey muttered, untangling herself from Poe’s embrace and taking a long sip from her coffee to try and assuage the dryness in her mouth. 

“Ms. Niima?” a female voice called to their right, and Rey turned around in time to smile at the pretty brunette making her way towards them.

“Yes, and you must be Ms. Pava,” Rey smiled, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand.

“Please, call me Jessika.”

“Rey, then. Senator Solo’s communications director. And this is agent Dameron, head of security.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jessika said happily, shaking Poe’s hand with a smile. “Are Ms. Holdo and Senator Solo expecting you for the meeting?”

“Meeting?” Rey asked, furrowing her brows. “Are the Senator and Ms. Holdo meeting today?”

“I assume they are,” Jessika answered, cocking her head slightly. “They’ve been in her office for over an hour now.”

“See,” Rey huffed, shaking her head as she turned to face Poe. “This is the shit I’m talking about. He’s talking to the director of the museum and _he didn’t even_ –”

“Rey?” Poe said, an infuriatingly condescending twitch around his lips. “Remember what we talked about? Keeping it cool?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Rey let out a long huff of air, wetting her lips.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Pa…. Jessika. Early morning.” She reminded herself to plaster a smile on her face before proceeding. “No, we’re not expected for the meeting. Mr. Dameron is here to brief your security staff, scan the museum and prepare the area for when the rest of our security team comes, and I’m here to check the wax figure and the room – make sure everything’s in order for the reveal later today.”

“Of course,” Jessica said brightly, nodding and pointing at the long corridor to her right. “The room with the Senator’s figure is the fourth on the left – politicians’ hall. I made sure to leave it unlocked. Mr. Dameron, if you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to our head of security.”

“It’s Poe, please,” he replied, throwing Rey a devilish wink before following Jessika to an imposing wooden side door.

Downing the last of her coffee, Rey closed her eyes for a second, resting her hands on her hips.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered to herself, squaring her shoulders as she shoved the paper cup into a nearby bin and marched down the empty hallway.

Were this a normal Friday, she would have stopped to admire the lofty chestnut doors that lined the long corridor, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed even more striking in the chiaroscuro of an early winter morning. She would have found them stunning, hadn’t she been woken up at 4 a.m with Ben Solo’s infuriatingly velvety baritone casually _informing her_ she had to oversee Poe’s work at the museum – that, _no_, this couldn’t _possibly_ wait until her fucking _working hours_, even if the stupid reveal wasn’t to take place until 3_ fucking_ p. m.

_Oversee Poe’s work my ass_, she spat mentally as she strode towards the fourth door. Since she was up and in heels at _six in the fucking morning,_ she might as well start doing her actual job instead of wasting time with another pointless task Solo had assigned to her with the sole purpose of driving her out of her mind.

He wanted her to resign, of course. That’s what he’d wanted from day one, ever since Alderaan had elected him Leia’s successor; ever since Leia herself had handed Rey over to him like a family heirloom.

_She’s the best I have_, the Senator had said, her eyes twinkling. _Take good care of her._

Rey had been there, in Leia Organa’s office. She’d _seen_ his face. She’d seen the way he looked at her as if the mere sight of her cheap pencil skirt and thrifted silk blouse caused him physical pain. She knew getting rid of her had been his sole purpose in life ever since that moment, and each day working for him just went to confirm her suspicions.

The intricate metal doorknob felt cold against her fingers, and she had to use her shoulder for leverage to push the massive door open.

Rey had been to the wax museum before, many years ago, so she knew the walls of each room were lined with huge, imposing windows. At this hour, before opening, they were still covered by heavy velvet curtains, so the only light here emanated from a spotlight hanging obliquely above the wax figure’s head, illuminating the scenery around it. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness, so Rey just walked up to cool-toned halo that shone upon Senator Solo and his desk.

It was admittedly a good representation of his office – always pristine, always immaculately organized, always devoid of any trace of humanity or affection. He had a family, for crying out loud. He had friends. He probably had a girlfriend – some super model, secret girlfriend, because why wouldn’t he? 

He had everything, and still his office looked as sterile as an operating room. No pictures, no framed embraces or smiles, no trinkets that reminded him of anyone or anything. Just shiny, fancy pens, an endless collection of books, and neatly arranged stashes of paper.

Yes, it looked perfect, Rey thought, allowing her eyes to wander to the man standing beside the desk.

_They didn’t get his hair right_. Curiously enough, that was the first thought that crossed her mind as she drank him in, leaning against the mahogany desk and feeling it dig into her hip. Under this light – this oblique, fluorescent light – his hair would look impossibly shiny, streaked with white and blue and deep, deep black. The length was about right, but, again, they hadn’t captured the way it framed his face in soft but voluminous waves, falling effortlessly until loose, raven-black tendrils brushed his jawline and his neck.

“There you are, you fuckface,” she spat at the wax figure, walking around it until she was standing right in front of it with her arms crossed over her chest. “Did you miss me?”

His face looked realistic enough, but there was something missing. Maybe a mole? The one right over his brow? No, there it was – pale brown and enticing, flooding her with an odd urge to reach out and touch it. His eyes, probably. They’d made them a shade too dark – his real eyes were hazel-brown, not chocolate, and they shone almost golden when hit by direct sunlight.

Not that Rey would know. 

His mouth was off, too. Full enough, sure, but not pinkish enough; not velvety enough; not plump enough to make her want to –

“Of course you didn’t. You saw me yesterday. Hated every minute of it, too. As usual.”

She took a step closer, craning her neck to look up at him, and anger bloomed in her chest as she assessed just how wrong his eyes looked.

“That’s why, isn’t it? Why you demoted me? I had a good thing going for me, you know? Leia Organa’s _senior legislative assistant_. I was doing something. I was making a difference. But you couldn’t _stand_ long meetings with me, could you, you fucktwit? I don’t dress fancy enough; I don’t _look_ fancy enough, so you had to turn me into a glorified errand girl.” 

Rey’s heels clicked against hardwood as she shifted from side to side, breathing heavily.

“You know, you can fool everyone with your golden boy act, but you don’t fool me. You think I don’t remember it, Solo? Lobbying for Snoke? Standing across the aisle, jeopardizing every single bill we tried to pass?”

When her voice echoed off the walls, she realized it had gone up a few decibels, so she stopped herself again, raising her chin.

“It’s a pretty story, isn’t it? Redemption. Atonement. _The prodigal son_. It sells. Got you elected to her chair. But you know what? _You. Don’t. Fool. Me._” 

Each word was punctuated with a dig of her forefinger into her own chest, and she took another step forward, letting her eyes roam down his body. The museum had gotten it wrong, too. She swallowed.

“You don’t fool me,” she repeated, more feebly this time, feeling her mouth go painfully dry as images of his actual body flashed before her eyes. “Because I know you’re still that man. I can see it when you look at me like I’m a nuisance, a _street rat_, a –”

It was fortunate, really, that no one was there to hear her voice crack like that. She let out a shivering breath, wiping the dampness on her cheek on the back of her hand. Why was she crying? God, she _hated_ early mornings.

“Why?” she asked softly, her voice strained by tears. “Why do I disgust you that much? I mean, I’m not up there with the super models you probably fuck, but I’m not… _“_

Her voice cracked again, and she frowned down at her shoes, watching one of her tears paint a dark circle onto the hardwood floor.

“What I look like shouldn’t matter, you know? What I wear. The purses I carry. Whether my nails are done or not. How much makeup I wear. It shouldn’t matter, because I’m fucking good at what I do. I’m not there for you to look at, I’m there to do my job – my _actual_ job – and I was fucking _good_ at it, back when Leia allowed me to do it.”

She held the figure’s gaze for a long moment, finally averting her eyes when another tear trickled down her cheek, tickling her skin. Breathing heavily and wiping it away, she walked slowly to the desk and sat down on it, right next to the wax figure.

“Maybe I _should_ resign,” she finally murmured, shrugging as she crossed her legs and braced her hands on either side of her hips. “Look what you’re doing to me. I’m talking to a wax figure at six in the morning. I cry all the time. Cry myself to sleep sometimes, did you know that?”

Her eyes darted towards the figure, which remained unmoving. She nodded. 

“Didn’t think you would. I do, though. Often. Usually right after I get myself off thinking about you.”

Her teary, sarcastic chuckle rang in the darkened room, and she bit the inside of her cheeks, shaking her head.

“Do you do it on purpose? The hair? The aftershave? The suits? The mouth? God, _the fucking mouth_,” she whimpered, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Do you do it just to feel powerful? To make girls fantasize about… about you bending them over your desk and fucking them senseless while there are meetings going on next door? Or about kneeling under your table while you take a phone call and gagging on your cock until you’re coming down their throat? Is that why you go the extra mile to look so… So fucking…”

She gestured up and down his body, a deep furrow between her brows, and then let her hands fall back to her lap, defeated.

“Delicious. So fucking delicious.”

Rey sat in silence for a long moment, picking at a loose cuticle and chewing her bottom lip, feeling a damp, cold weight take up residence in her stomach. It told her she wasn’t done yet.

“Your eyes look golden in the sunlight. Did you know that?” Wax Ben remained unmoving when she looked at his profile, and it occurred to her that, for the first time in almost two years, she was allowed to stare. So she did. “And your cheeks dimple when you smile. Not at me, of course. Never at me. But they do. And you have a mole,” she said, pointing at his face, “Right over your brow, which is lighter than the others. It’s my favorite, ‘cause not everyone notices it. I thought they’d left it out of your wax figure, but they haven’t.”

Bringing her hand back to her lap, she sighed, letting her shoulders slump and her eyes travel down to the hardwood floor.

“Why do you hate me? What have I done to you?”

Her whispered words hung in the air for a few seconds, until they were joined by the sound of footsteps.

She didn’t gasp when Ben Solo’s figure emerged from a dark corner, gliding out of the shadows and fixing his tie. Didn’t gape or flinch when his eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, his lips doing the _thing_ she’d come to know like the back of her hand.

Shock froze her in place, and it was all she could do to remind herself to keep breathing.

He stared at her for a long moment, standing on the rim of the luminous halo the spotlight cast onto the floor, and then shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Ms. Niima,” he finally said, his voice strained and hoarse, somehow even deeper than she remembered it. “You’re fired.”

By the time she found her voice, he’d already taken several long, resolute strides towards the door.

“What?” she croaked, and he stopped, looking down at the floor. It was his profile that she could see from this angle, and, as the world crumbled around her, all she could think about was how off base his wax figure was. 

“Fired,” he repeated, looking up and turning his head to meet her eyes. “I’ll recommend you to better positions, of course. I’ll make sure you have plenty of options. Positions that suit your qualifications.”

“What…” was all she managed to repeat, curling her numb fingers around the edge of the desk as she hopped to the floor. “Wait, Senator. What I said, I…”

“You were right,” he said matter-of-factly, hands clenched into fists inside his pockets as he turned around to face her. “Your looks shouldn’t impact your career in any way. I was in the wrong. I apologize. And you’re fired.”

As his eyes roamed her face, rage simmered in her chest, breaking through the shroud of numbness in which shock had enveloped her entire body. 

“Are you… are you admitting you sabotaged my career because you think I… Because you don’t…” Her hands were shaking, so she clenched them by her sides, locking her jaw. “Are you saying you’re excluding me from Leia’s legacy – the legacy _I helped her build_ – because I’m not _pretty enough_?”

He stood so still she would have thought he was a wax figure, hadn’t his full lips been working around unspoken words while his eyes bore holes into hers.

“Have a good day, Ms. Niima,” was all he said before he turned around and started to make his way to the door.

“Leia won’t let you,” Rey said, her voice surprisingly firm considering the trembling state of the rest of her body. “She won’t let you do this to me.”

Ben stopped and looked over his shoulder, and the sight of his profile pushed her over the edge.

“Come back here and say it in my face, you fucking COWARD,” she bellowed, feeling a vein throb painfully on her neck. “I’ll make you say it in Leia’s face, too – tell her why I’m not allowed to keep working on her projects, tell her my lack of finesse offends her _precious little son_ –”

When he turned around and strode towards her, it was so quick she retreated by pure instinct, feeling the edge of the desk dig into her backside. This time, she did gasp.

“I think my mother will _let me,” _he hissed only inches away from her face, splaying his hands on the mahogany surface on either side of her hips and caging her between his body and the desk. “I think she’ll be relieved to know that I fired you after I tell her how many times I’ve made myself come thinking about your perfect little ass.”

His eyes were frenzied as they consumed her face, his breath hot and tingly as it caressed her skin in panting waves. “Wouldn’t Leia Organa be _mortified_ to know her son has spent the better part of two years thinking about the way your cunt would clench around his cock as he took you from behind on his desk, covering your pretty little mouth so the people in the next room wouldn’t hear you screaming his name?” 

His hands were a hairbreadth away from hers on the table, his torso so close to hers she could feel each deep breath he took in the form of waves of heat that condensed and liquefied between her legs. When his thumbs grazed her pinkies, they rose gooseflesh up and down her arms.

“Wouldn’t my mother clutch her pearls if she knew you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen? If she knew how many hard-ons I’ve had just from seeing you walk down the hall? How I see your freckles every time I close my eyes – _every single fucking freckle _– and it drives me _insane_?”

Rey just stared at him in silence, panting heavily, her eyes lingering on his parted lips long enough to bring him back to his senses.

Squaring his shoulders, Ben took a step back, fixing his jacket as embarrassment and regret replaced lust in his hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry. Very sorry. But I can’t work with you.”

When he moved to turn around, Rey’s body responded by grabbing the lapel of his jacket without asking her brain for permission, anchoring his body to hers, refusing to let him go. His lips parted at he stared at her hands on his chest, his eyes slowly travelling upwards, lingering on her lips for an endless moment.

She’d never be able to tell who initiated it, but it didn’t really matter. In a millisecond, her entire world was reduced to the feeling of his lips on hers, hot and velvety, and of his hands flying to her waist, big enough to engulf her entire waistline. She opened her mouth to grant him access, moaning as their tongues crashed and the taste of coffee and mint cast a hazy shroud over her senses. One of his hands wandered to her hair as he kissed her, and she arched her back, pressing her ribcage to his torso.

“Tell me to stop,” he groaned against her mouth, tugging at her hair while his other hand slid down to grab her ass. “Please, tell me to stop.” 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, nibbling at his lower lip as she looped her arms around his neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

The growl that fell from his lips rippled across her entire body, and she captured his lips again, determined to commit his taste to memory. If this was another one of her fantasies, at least she’d make the most of it.

It didn’t seem like a fantasy, though – the way he kneaded desperately at her ass; the way his boner grinded against her lower stomach, making her walls clench in anticipation; how shaky his hands felt when they started working on the buttons of her shirt, undoing them all the way down to the waistband of her skirt.

And it definitely didn’t feel like a fantasy, the way his large hand slid inside her bralette and pinched her nipple, making her gasp into his mouth. 

“You have no idea,” he panted, grinding against her stomach. “Rey, you…”

“I do,” she breathed, sliding one hand down his chest and cupping his erection as she swallowed his hiss. “Trust me, I do.”

She refused to break the kiss as she undid his belt, so it took her longer to do it, which caused his hips to buck forward every time her fumbling fingers grazed his cock over his dress pants.

“Holy shit,” he panted, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers when her fingers finally slid inside his pants, wrapping around the base of his shaft. As soon as she started pumping her fist up and down, he screwed his eyes shut, parting his swollen lips.

Rey looked up at him through her lashes, entranced by the reactions her body coaxed out of him. He pressed his forehead against hers again, dragging his lips over hers when his fingers started to ride her skirt up her thighs.

“Shit, I,” he breathed against her mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Are you clean?”

“Yeah, yeah, I… I haven’t had sex in… _Fuck, Rey,_” he moaned as his fingers found her clit through the drenched fabric of her underwear.

“I’m clean. And on the pill. And haven’t had sex in… _Fuck!_”

She buried her head in his shoulder when he slid a finger inside her, her hand going still around his cock for a moment.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing her hair as he pressed the heel of his palm to her clit. “Bend over for me, then. Let me see your ass.”

“Yes, Senator.”

Her whispered incitement seemed to stun him for a few seconds, and she’d already turned around when he growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and cupping her breasts roughly.

“You’ll be the end of me,” he breathed into her hair, nibbling at her earlobe as he leaned over slowly, pressing her torso to the office table.

“You’re ruining the scenery.”

“Fuck the scenery,” he grunted, standing back up and holding her against the table with a large hand splayed across her back.

His other hand finished riding her skirt upwards, making it pool around her waist, and he parted her legs using his feet as he slid her underwear down her thighs.

“Is this real?” she heard him whisper behind her as his hands cupped her butt gently, spreading her cheeks and making her squirm. Her panting breath morphed into a muffled moan when he slid two fingers through her folds, from her clit all the way up to her ass. He lingered there for a moment, drawing gently circles at the tight entrance, and she braced herself on her forearms so she could look over her shoulder.

“Ben, _please._” 

His darkened eyes rose slowly from her ass to her face, and he leaned over again, pressing his chest to her arched back.

“What did you call me?”

He kissed the words into her cheek, and she couldn’t help letting her eyes flutter shut.

“_Ben_.”

“Shit, Rey,” he breathed, licking her neck and tangling his fingers in her hair. “I’ve jerked off to the thought of you saying my name. _So many times._”

The peck he planted behind her ear was feather light, but his grip on her hair was tight when he stood up again, making her arch her back even further.

“Do you want me to fuck you? On my desk?”

“Yes, please. Ben, please.”

She couldn’t recognize her voice as she begged for him, but his hand was tugging at her hair and his thumb had gone back to teasing her asshole, so there was very little in the world she could bring herself to care about.

“Good girl.”

She gasped when the head of his cock parted her folds, sliding slowly into her, and her arms trembled under her body when his large hand cupped her left cheek and squeezed it, allowing him to go deeper.

“Okay?” he panted, and she nodded, feeling his fingers graze her scalp.

“Yeah. More than okay.”

“Taking me so good, aren’t you? I knew you would. You’re _perfect_.”

He thrust slowly as he spoke, sliding in and out of her as his hand worshipped her ass. His fingers pinched her skin or dug into her flesh every now and then, making her whimper, her breath fogging the glassy mahogany surface under her mouth.

“No, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice menacingly sweet as he slid his left hand up and around her waist, bringing it between her stomach and the desk. His fingers caressed her lower abdomen as his other hand left her hair, wrapping around her mouth, and she gasped when he leaned forward, burying himself in her to the hilt. “We can’t let them hear us.”

His hips jerked forward as he said it, making the edge of the desk dig into her wobbly thighs. When his fingers found her clit, he started to pound mercilessly into her, his hand muffling the cries that fell from her lips.

She could probably come just from the sounds he made as he fucked her; from the slapping sounds their bodies made when they moved; from the desk rattling under her body, sounding just like it did in her fantasies.

She didn’t have to come from that, though. She gasped and moaned each time he flicked or pinched her clit, too far gone to care about the noise they were making, squirming every time his tie and his jacket brushed her back, tickling her skin through the thin fabric of her blouse.

Each time her walls clenched, they clenched around _him_, and the sensation was so overwhelming it pushed her over the edge with no warning.

When she crashed, he crashed along with her, moaning her name between her shoulder blades as she bit one of his fingers to repress a scream.

He waited for her walls to stop fluttering before he pulled out, peppering her back with kisses as he stood up straight. She finally plopped down on the desk, panting heavily, her legs shaking as he slid her underwear up her thighs and pulled her skirt back over her ass. She heard him pull up his pants and do his own belt before he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her shoulder as he coaxed her to stand up, pulling her to his chest.

“You okay?” he whispered into the crook of her neck, and she smiled, turning around to face him.

“Wobbly legs. Stupid heels.” 

“Right.”

When he cupped her cheeks, brushing her hair away from her face, the smile on his lips made him look a decade younger. It was the first time she ever saw his dimples this close.

“I smile at you,” he murmured, running the pad of his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Or because of you. Thinking about you. All the time.”

“It would help if you did it when I’m actually there,” she whispered in response, leaning into his touch.

His eyes darkened at that, and he tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like –”

“Hey,” she said, throwing him a crooked smile as she fixed his tie. “We did it in front of your wax figure.”

He huffed out a nervous laugh at that, leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

“God, Rey.”

“We’ll talk it over. Just… Just not now.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly before capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss that made her sigh into his mouth.

“Have dinner with me,” he whispered, carding his hand through her hair. “Or… Coffee. Lunch. Whatever you –”

“Dinner sounds good,” she answered, smiling as she opened her eyes to drink his in.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“After the reveal thing?”

“It’s a date.”

He beamed down at her, his dimples going deeper than she’d ever seen them as she fixed his hair and smiled up at him.

Through the slits between the heavy curtains, the sun had started to crawl into the room, casting pale amber stripes onto the hardwood floor. One of them settled on Ben and Rey, enveloping them in warmth and revealing the specks of dust that danced around them as they smiled.

Under the sunlight, Ben’s eyes shone golden. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first one-shot *and* my first prompt fill, so please let me know what you think? I had a lot of fun writing it, and I'd love to keep filling prompts if that's something you guys would be interested in. 
> 
> To Adrift readers: don't worry, chapter 13 will be up tomorrow! 
> 
> Love your faces <3


End file.
